


roll tide

by Summer_Pond



Series: Pining Chronicles [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pseudo-Incest, Step-Brothers, boy next door trope, hot older brother trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13389249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summer_Pond/pseuds/Summer_Pond
Summary: “So, your brother is kinda hot.” Lance blurted out.Keith lifted his head from the magazine. “Shiro?” He deadpanned.Lance huffed, “Yeah, unless you magically have other brothers you haven’t told me.”Keith looks at Lance. Then looks to Shiro, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then back to his magazine and replies almost without a second’s thought, “I guess.”(In which Lance is totally not imagining being sandwiched between Keith: the boy-next-door and Keith’s older step-brother: Shiro. Nope. Not at all.)





	roll tide

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a mixture of two tropes: boy next door and hot-older brother which is where the pseudo-incest comes into play as a warning to those who may not find interest in such topics being explored.
> 
> Implied ages for everyone  
> Lance: 16  
> Keith: 17  
> Shiro: 18  
> 

Lance is ten when he moves into the new neighbourhood.

 

He’s lanky, awkward and his mama and papa always complain about his mud-prints on their family floorboards.  

 

He meets the Koganes one day after his family unpacks their boxes. Another boy around your age is in the family next door his mama explains, ‘ _Go and introduce yourself.’_

 

So he does. Lance picks up his big boy pants and reaches for the childish confidence inside of him and knocks on the maroon colored door with the white oak doorknob of House number six with the numerical value in a shiny gold coating. Once, twice, three times before it opens.

 

There’s a man that appears when the door swings open and Lance is in awe how tall this person is.

 

“Hey Mister, my mama and papa have just moved next-door and she says you have’a boy my age. She said I should introduce myself but ‘mnot sure what she means.”

 

“Hey there,” The man replies, “It’s nice to meet you, young man, I’ll go and get Keith for you.”

 

Upon Lance’s quizzical expression, the man expands. “Keith is my son.”

 

The man calls behind him, the name ringing out clearly. Lance shuffles on the spot, picking at the treads of his shorts which were fading from being exposed to the sun for the past months. There’s some _thuds_ that follow and when Lance lifts up his head he sees a boy peering back him, boredom draping his facial features.

 

“M’name’s Lance. I’m ten years old. How old are you?”

 

“Eleven.” The other boy’s reply is curt and sharp and Lance opens his mouth to reply until the pale skinned boy cuts him off.

 

“What do you want.”

 

Lance pouts. “You don’t have to sound like such a grumpy old man. I moved in yesterday and I wanted to say hello.”

 

Keith mockingly waves. “Hello. Now you’re done.”

 

Lance scrunches up his fist on each side of his torso. “You’re not a very nice person are you?”

 

The older boy shrugs. “Don’t care, I’m busy, you’re boring. Are we done?”

 

Lance glares. Really, really glares at him. Burning holes into his rude boy. “Fine. Be that way. I hope Santa gives you coal for Christmas!”

 

Keith moves to close the door. “Santa isn’t real so I don’t care.”

 

Lance screeches when the door closes.

 

_____

 

Lance is thirteen when Keith’s parents divorce.

 

He notices because there’s furniture being moved out by trucks outside the house. He knows because Keith’s mom, a lovely lady who sometimes gives cookies and treats stops coming over. He realizes when Keith doesn’t react to Lance’s attempts at conversations anymore.  

 

He’s halfway in fixing up a prank at Keith’s house, sneaking in from the back to set-up his epic joke when he realizes that said boy is already there in the backyard. Lance scuffles into the bushes to avoid detection and is already thinking of an escape plan until there’s a harsh _thwok_ cascades as something solid hits the metallic fence.

 

Lance peers out of the bushes to see Keith throwing pebbles at the fence connecting Lance’s house to the angry raven head’s.

 

‘Well that’s not very nice to the fence’ is his first thought. His second follows as ‘Oh, is Keith crying?’

 

Indeed, Keith’s face had been splotched with a ruby red, glistening tear tracks from his eyes to his cheeks. Snot had started to drip from Keith’s nostrils which had been hastily wiped by the cuffs of the older boy’s sleeves. ‘Gross’ Lance thought.

 

“Why are you crying?”

 

Lance didn’t realise his feet had moved on their own, ditching his attempt to hide in the foliage. Instead, he walked out, unsure and wary of confronting Keith, but Lance doesn’t have it in his heart to leave someone whose tearing up (even if said person was a Grade-A douchebag in Lance’s opinion).

 

“None of your business. What are you even doing here?” Keith berates, and really Lance has to give him props for trying to appear intimidating while there’s a mixture of snot and tears running down his face.

 

“It’s my business when you’re crying out here.” Lance gestures vaguely, trying not to stare at Keith’s growing irritation. “D’ya…wanna talk about it or somethin’?”

 

“How about you go and fuck off. Can you do that Lance?” Keith bites back and Lance frowns.

 

“That might have been cool when you were eleven but now you’re just acting like a big brat.” Lance’s monotone voice only makes Keith grit his teeth harder. “Stop acting like you’re too cool for feelings and talk for goodnes’ sakes.”

 

“What do you even know. You can’t talk shit Lance.” Keith spews out, getting closer and closer to Lance’s face.

 

“I know your parents split.” Lance’s voice is soft. “Look, I know you’re probably going through some stuff now…”

 

Keith looks accusingly at the younger boy, teeth bared with spit flying as he grounds out, “You think its my fault. You’re probably right. I’m too much of a brat and that’s why my mom decided to leave!”

 

Lance’s face has shock written all over it. Flabbergasted he tries to reason. “What. NO. When did I ever say that?! Keith, it’s not your fault, stop thinking like it is because it won’t change what happened.”

 

“What do you know, you goody-two shoes.” Keith pokes at Lance’s chest and the Cuban boy narrows his eyes.

 

“I know exactly when someone needs a pick-me-up, and you desperately need one.” Lance speaks as he grabs Keith’s non-snotty jacket sleeve and pulls him to his house.

 

“Hey, wait a minute. What are you doing?” Keith retorts trying to bat Lance’s grip off with no luck.

 

“Shut up, you teenage edgelord.” Lance answers as he pushes Keith in the former’s kitchen and makes Keith settle on one of the wooden chairs, anger being replaced by confusion. “Now sit there and look pretty.’

 

Keith gaped, watching as Lance smoothly rummaged through the freezer pulling out a carton of ice-cream, and grabbed a bowl and spoon, rinsing it before lifting the carton’s lid and scooping a generous amount and then drizzling a shower of chocolate sauce to finish off the treat. “Ta-da. Now dig in.”

 

Keith hesitated, looking between the bowl of ice-cream and Lance’s bright smile. With reluctance he took the spoon offered to him and made a small dent in the mountain of vanilla dessert. Keith took the bite and smacked his lips for good measure. The first bite became the second, which escalated until there was no frozen treat left and only the melted white liquid mixed with the brown streaks of chocolate.

 

“So.” Lance began, “That made you feel better right? Sometimes I’ll get some ice-cream when I’m down.”

 

“It was too sweet.” Keith replied, “But, I guess…it was nice.”

 

“I do this feel good thing and you still criticise me,” Lance scoffed, “See if I help your sorry ass again.”

 

Keith snorted. Then coughed. Then began to chuckle. That become a full-blown laugh as Keith covered his mouth to muffle his giggles.

 

Lance might have told Keith off that afternoon, but the grateful smile and watery eyes from Keith was not something the Cuban boy could ever forget.

 

_____

 

 

Lance is fifteen when Keith’s Dad remarries.

 

He finds himself at the Wedding reception, seeing both familiar and unfamiliar faces. The Step-Mother had brought a son from the previous relationship (a son that had spent most of his time at a boarding school), not that was super important to him as all he wanted to was to talk to Keith – but alas, his best friend was being hogged by the relatives—so Lance entertained himself by standing alone near the tables. He swirled the juice in his cup, watching as the orange hurricane in his plastic container occur.

 

“You know, if you keep spinning hard enough you might get some centrifugal force action on.”

 

Lance fumbled with his drink, droplets spilling out as the voice behind him surprised him.

 

He turned around to greet a taller Asian boy with tufts of black hair being neatly kept clean with an undercut, dressed in a tuxedo as per tradition to a Wedding. The Asian boy laughed, seemingly apologetic. “Ah, my bad. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

 

“Uh…” Lance stammered, “It’s okay. I didn’t expect anyone to chat to me.”

 

“You’re the next door’s son right?” The Asian boy lightly tapped a finger to his lips. “Lance if I remember correctly?”

 

“Yeah. That’s my name.” Lance smiled. “What’s yours?”

 

“I’m Takeshi Shirogane. All my friends call me Shiro though. Which might be a little awkward now.” The taller boy laughed light-heartedly.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“Well.” Shiro explained, “Since my mother’s being remarried it would make sense that she could change her surname and take Keith’s Dad.”

 

Lance’s eyes bugged. “Wait a second…are you…?!” He pointed a tan finger at the calm Shiro.

 

“Nice to meet you Lance,” Shiro beamed, “I’m Keith’s older step-brother.”

 

_____

 

Lance is sixteen when Shiro moves back home.

 

Its sweltering. The Summer. There’s humidity that suffocates Lance’s attempts to find some cool relief. The fans back at his house are useless – by the time the rotating fan moves around there’s another sheen of sweat dripping from Lance— so he seeks refuge with Keith. Thankfully, there’s a pool in Keith’s house. The downside is that it hasn’t been used for years, so this year was the first time for a long while they had to clean up the swimming pool.

 

Keith is lazily lounging on the couches with a gaming magazine in his hands, the living room’s door opened up as the sight of the pool tempts Lance. It’s still being fixed up, but all Lance wants is to be able to jump into the cool water and splash around to avoid the Summer heat. Shiro had volunteered to clean the pool up, turning down offers for Keith and Lance help. The oldest boy was at the edge of the pool, carefully picking up debris floating on top with the long net. In a garb of loose shorts and a ratty t-shirt, with sunglasses shading Shiro’s face, he was hard at work making sure the pool was ready for the Summer season.

 

Lance gulped. His eyes trailed the muscles exposed as Shiro pulled the net closer to empty the debris in a bin, with a shiny gleam of sweat dripping from Shiro’s nose and arms. Absentmindedly, the other boy dragged his t-shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and Lance had to take a huge breath as Shiro’s abs were being put up for display.

 

“So, your brother is kinda hot.” Lance blurted out.

 

Keith lifted his head from the magazine. “Shiro?” He deadpanned.

 

Lance huffed, “Yeah, unless you magically have other brothers you haven’t told me.”

 

Keith looks at Lance. Then looks to Shiro, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I guess objectively. Why the sudden epiphany?”

 

Lance swallows the spit gathering in his mouth, shrugging and trying to appear casual. “Not much, just an observation.”

 

Keith eyeballs Lance’s reaction with intrigue, “ _Sure_. You interested or something?”

 

Lance splutters in embarrassment. “E-excuse me! No way!”

 

Keith has a wolfish grin, “Now you’re definitely being suss. Do you want to be carried in Shiro’s strong arms?” Keith sing-songs teasingly.

 

“Oh shut it jerk.” Lance throws a pillow at Keith’s face, watching as the shorter boy takes it full-on.

 

Keith takes the pillow off his face, “Oh now it’s on.”

 

The two boys carry out a spontaneous pillow fight, swinging the soft cushions at each other while snickering with each successful hit. Lance, with more force than he expected, pushes into Keith and watches as the other boy gets knocked off to the floor. Which the raven-head decided to remedy by dragging the tan boy down to the ground as well.

 

_Thud_

 

Lance pressed his palms against the floor, one hand on either side of Keith’s head, elbows bent as the Cuban boy found himself looking directly into the shorter boy’s face. Eyebrows raised in amusement, lips curling up to a smirk, light flush shaded on Keith’s cheekbones and beads of sweat along the pale neck.

 

Lance felt a sudden rush of blood to his face, hot bashfulness sucking out any words from his mouth. Is it weird if he wants to kiss Keith right now?

 

“Are we boys alright here?”

 

Lance shook his head, turning to face where the new voice came from. Shiro leaned on the entryway, with cheerfulness in his question. He stared directly downwards to where Lance is holding down Keith.

 

“Yeah, we’re good. Just some rough-housing going on.” Lance answered.

 

“Hmmm, if that’s all that is going on,” Shiro cracked a smile, “because if it was going to go any further, I would recommend taking it to the bedroom.”

 

Lance hotly splutters, “WHAT. The heck do you think we were going to do?!”

 

Shiro keeps the beam on his face. “Certainly nothing drastic in this good Christian household.” And the oldest boy winks.

 

Lance turns down to look at Keith. “Aren’t you guys Atheists?”

 

Keith disinterestedly replies. “Yeah we are. That’s the joke.”

 

Lance glowers, “Now both of you are just pulling my leg.”

 

“Of course not. Lance, both of us would never joke around you.” Shiro innocently comments. The oldest boy steps forward and offers his hand to Lance, who takes it, being lifted from Keith, and almost stumbles as he finds his footing.

 

“Come on, you’re not that clumsy.” Shiro smoothly declares with that stupid flattering smirk on his face. “Don’t want Cinderella to lose a slipper.”

 

Lance is sweating both inwardly and outwardly at this point.

 

He’s so screwed.


End file.
